What Life Throws Your Way
by PagetPaulson
Summary: He needed to change some things in his life.


"Sit still."

The older man clenched his teeth and glared at the television that was in front of him. "I hate this," he practically growled, feeling his wife's figners raking hard through his hair as she tried her best to make it look presentable.

What she thought was presentable, anyway.

Emily laughed, leaning down and kissing her husband's cheek so he would stop fussing. "Did you not say that I could do this?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Then shut up."

Hotch huffed.

Taking a short step back, the mother of two grinned down to the creation she was making on the top of the Unit Chief's head. "You have nice hair."

Hotch gave a roll of the eyes. "And I'm pretty sure you're ruining it," he chuckled to himself. He would do anything for the woman he loved, but this was a whole entire new level of trust.

His hair was one of the few things he took pride in.

"I'm making it better," the younger brunette nodded, a determined look on her face. "You never change it up, not anything; your wardrobe, your hair, the way you eat or watch the TV."

Hotch frowned, looking up to his wife with wide eyes. "The way I eat? The way I watch TV?"

Emily forced her husband's head back down. "Yeah," she sighed, taking a huge glob of hair gel and smacking it into his dark head of hair. "Your face is just always the same in each and every action and activity. You need to change it up."

Jack walked up to his parents and held his soda in his hand. "Is this actually a conversation you guys are having?"

"Go watch your sister," his mother almost growled at him.

Alyssa laughed as her brother came back out to the backyard to sit on the swings with her. "Mommy got mad at you."

The thirteen year old rolled his eyes before pushing the ebony haired girl on her favorite swing. "Mommy's PMSing," he groaned. "She'll get over it."

Trying her best to comb her fingers through her husband's hardening hair, Emily made a face. "So what's your favorite movie, handsome?"

Hotch couldn't contain his laughter at the question. "What?"

Emily grinned, tickling the back of the older man's neck and biting into her bottom lip. "Come on. We were both bored and now we're alone," she whispered, leaning down to nibble on his earlobe. "Let's pretend like it's our first date."

"You didn't call me handsome on the first date."

Emily pursed her lips. "But I made out with you," she grinned. "So you pretty much knew that I thought you were handsome."

Hotch smiled, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. They had met when he was twenty-three and she was eighteen, him working for her mother back in New York, and after a year of know each other they had finally gone on their first date. "You were so beautiful."

The brunette woman's lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she smiled. "Remember our first dance at my mother's gala?"

"You almost spilled all the punch on yourself and then fell into a group of your mother's friends."

Emily snorted, wiping her hands along the towel she had draped along her husband's shoulders. "I got a little drunk," she laughed, picking up her phone and snapping a picture of the back of Hotch's new hairstyle. "But I do remember our dance. Your body only an inch away from mine?" she whispered. "That got me sobered up pretty quickly."

Hotch watched as his wife came around to stand in front of him, his eyes immediately going to the jeans that hugged her legs and hips. "We can always do it again," he said sweetly, his eyes shooting up to look into those of his wife. "Our first dance."

"Not with that hairdo."

The older man frowned when he saw Emily typing quickly on her phone, and he stood from his chair. "What does it look like?" He followed her into the kitchen and glared, trying to steal the phone from his wife. "Emily, what did you do?"

Emily tried her best to fight off her husband's hands before she was trapped between him and the kitchen counter, her phone taken away from her. "Don't get mad." The laughter surrounding her words didn't do much to help calm the anger on the older man's face.

"You gave me a Mohawk?"

Emily's jaw dropped at the surprise on her husband's face, and she hid her quivering lips behind her hands as he brought her up against him. "Don't get mad," she whispered through her laughter.

"And you sent it to everyone in your contact list!"

The mother of two shook her head. "I never sent it to Strauss." She squealed, her stomach hurting from laughing as hard as she was picked up and placed on the counter, her stomach bumping against his when Hotch pulled her to him. "Don't hate me."

Hotch playfully glared at the younger woman before taking her into a kiss, swallowing her gasp of surprise as he let her tongue invade his mouth.

Emily pulled back after a good minute and took in a breath, noticing her legs were wrapped around her husband's waist. "So you don't hate it?"

The two children standing outside the glass doors grimaced at their parents, seeing Emily's back toward them with their father's arms tight around her.

"This is gross."

Jack shivered, helping his sister over toward the pool so they could dip their feet in. "We should stay out here," he tried to laugh. "Give it twenty minutes."

Alyssa's eyes widened. "Twenty?"

The thirteen year old paused, shaking his head. "Fifteen."


End file.
